“Oh, you’re kidding me, right?” Buffy stared across the training room, her face a picture of stunned disbelief.

“Erm… well…” Behind her, Giles shuffled uncomfortably and manfully resisted the urge to polish his glasses.

Buffy shook her head and turned to face the group standing nervously behind Giles in the doorway, all of whom suddenly and inexplicably found something fascinating to look at on the floor. Giles smiled bravely, but his right hand headed relentlessly towards the bridge of his nose.

“OK. You wanna try and explain?” Buffy folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s a training aid… clearly.” Giles gave up the manful struggle and removed his glasses.

“A training aid.” Buffy’s expression implied it wasn’t clear at all.

Giles polished and tried again. “It’s just, now that Riley… well, he’s… erm… not around,” Giles winced at the killer look Buffy flashed him and struggled on, “I thought… that is, we thought…” he looked around for support from the others, but the floor with still holding their attention. “A… ah… sparring partner, so to speak. So we got Warren to… well… make one,” he ended lamely.

“Warren. Right.” Buffy crossed the room. “So you care to tell me why this particular model?”

Giles waved his glasses vaguely. “Well, clearly we needed a vampire… with vampire strength and abilities and… Xander suggested…” He paused. Strangely enough, it had seemed an entirely reasonable idea at the time. Not any more, however. “Well, really I don’t see that it matters…” he went on with somewhat less conviction. “We just needed something – Puffy Xander wasn’t going to stand up to much more punishment and…”

“Doesn’t matter?” She snorted in disbelief. “It’s Spike!”

“Well, yes… in part…”

“In whole! Look! It has the stupid hair and the duster and…” she peered closely, “even the scar!”

“Well, actually I thought it would be a plus.” Xander shrugged. “Must just make you want to kick it all the more.” He dropped his eyes in the face of Buffy’s steady stare. “Well, it would me…”

Anya nudged his arm. “I did tell you she wouldn’t like it,” she hissed. “I said ‘Have had it made Johnny Depp-shape, she’d like that.’ Hell, we’d all like that! But would you all listen to me? Oh no…We should have returned this one to the strange, geeky guy and demanded a refund.”

“Ahn…” Xander shot her a look and she subsided, muttering quietly to herself.

Buffy glared Anya into silence and then turned back to Xander. “And you don’t think maybe one of them is more than enough?”

“This one’s housetrained.” Willow offered. “And… and actually,” she was clearly thinking on her feet, “it’s quite useful that it’s based on a real live… erm… dead vampire, because it has this really neat adaptive programming so we’ll be able to see how it changes and compare it to the real Spike and maybe learn something about how vampire brains, you know – work.”

“Spike has a brain? Can’t say I’ve ever seen much evidence of it.” Xander muttered.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s a certain amount of flying by wire going on here?” Buffy shook her head. “OK, so I’m listening. Tell me about it.”

“It’s a lean, mean, fighting machine with attitude and a nifty leather coat.” Willow’s smile wilted in the face of the patent Buffy stare. “Sorry. OK – it’s a high spec simulant programmed with some pretty basic fighting moves; but the really exciting thing is it’ll learn stuff. So – more you fight with it, better it gets. Neat, huh?”

“So, I fight with it, it gets better and better – what, to the point it can actually beat the crap outta me? This is clearly some definition of ‘neat’, I haven’t mastered.”

“Oh! No! Its programming won’t let it do that.” Willow frowned. “I mean it might get to the stage when things get a bit ouchy, but it won’t do any damage.” She smiled weakly. “Not any serious damage, anyways.”

“And yet I don’t feel comforted by that thought.”

“There’s an emergency shut down! See?” Willow held up a small, chromed device. “You press this red button here and it stops right away.” She held it up for Buffy’s inspection. “And the green one turns it on, and the numbers are the different programs.” She smiled nervously. “We thought of everything.”

Buffy eyed the device suspiciously. “That looks an awful lot like a cellphone…”

“That’s because it is.” Willow shrugged. “Easy to convert and all.”

Buffy smiled brightly. “Ha! Ingenious! So, when I accidentally try and use it to order a pizza, I get a psychotic robot leaping onto my back.”

Willow and Giles exchanged a look.

“Plus, one other thing. Kinda small thing and all, but – I’m in a killer armlock? How exactly am I gonna get the phone out of my pocket?”

“Oh.” Willow bit her lip in thought for a moment. “Oh! I know. A word. I’ll program it to turn off a specific word, then all you have to do is say it and no more armlocks. Something like… abeo, or desino, or…”

“How about ‘stop’? Has a nice, direct ring to it. Plus not with the easy to forget.”

“On to it. I’ll reprogram later. Meantime, I’ve got the zapper doohickey if you… you know… wanna give it a try?” Willow looked at Buffy hopefully.

“Well… I dunno…” Buffy peered at the strangely inanimate - and spookily quiet – replica Spike.

“It’s quite safe. We sort of tried it – well, not the fighting and all, because Xander was too chicken…”

“Hey! I didn’t wanna break it before Buffy could play is all!” Xander blustered.

Anya patted him sympathetically on the back. “Of course you didn’t, honey.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “It’s safe – wouldn’t do a thing. Just stood there growling even when Xander poked it…” Buffy raised an eyebrow. “…with his finger… prodded… it…” Willow blushed then rushed on. “So you see, we still haven’t really tested it, not properly. It’s mainly programmed to respond to you.”

“Gee. How touching.” Buffy turned to look at the ‘bot. Actually, she had to admit she was kind of intrigued as to how this would compare with the real thing and whether giving it a good beating would be equally satisfying… “OK. Let’s go for it.” She stood in front of the ‘bot and looked up at its immobile features. “I may regret this, but… fire him up.”

Willow pressed the green button.

The ‘bot’s eyelids fluttered open and Buffy felt a start of shock. A perfect match; charcoal lashes framing crystal-sharp blue eyes she’d glared into often enough to know well. But as those eyes focussed on her, there was something missing – a spark, that essence of irritating, maddening, exasperating Spikeness wasn’t there. And it annoyed and surprised the hell out her in fairly equal measures that she’d even noticed. Close, but not close enough. However, the frown settling on the ‘bot’s brow as it registered her presence was pure Spike.

“Slayer…” And that growl? On the button. She took an unconscious step backwards.

“Oh, you’re quite safe. Unless we choose a program, it won’t attack.” Giles moved closer to the ‘bot, which glared at him suspiciously. “Remarkable, really. For a mechanoid. Warren is really rather talented…”

“’Ere, who you callin’ a noid? Cor blimey! I’ll ‘ave you, mate, just see if I don’t! Strike a light!” The ‘bot turned its glare on Giles.

“…but sadly it seems he attended the Dick van Dyke school of English.” Giles winced. “That is presumably what Warren considers a cockney accent. Good heavens, you colonials have a happier knack of destroying the mother tongue than we do...”

“I could probably fix that, if you wanna give me a few pointers in Englishese.” Willow joined the contemplative circle examining the Spikebot. The ‘bot glowered at them suspiciously, apparently uncomfortable under their scrutiny. “You know, the programming was really pretty neat, considering.” She grinned. “’Course, it’s way neater now since I tinkered with its circuits.”

Giles gave an exasperated sigh. “I thought we’d agreed no tinkering?”

“Aww… it was hardly anything. A teensey, weensy tinkette.” Willow gave Giles a wide-eyed innocent look. “Just a little look-see. Besides, you know Warren - had to make sure there were no sneaky little surprises hidden away in his circuitry.”

“And were there?”

“Well… no.” Willow conceded. “But there might have been some cunning masterplan…”

“What are you lot blatherin’ about?” The ‘bot snarled at Giles, then turned to Buffy. “We gonna fight or what?”

“Huh. Direct and to the point. Kinda makes a pleasant change. OK, I’m game.” She gestured to Willow. “Give me a number 1.”

The first scuffle lasted seconds, the ‘bot going for the ‘launch-yourself-at-the enemy-with-a-bloodcurdling-yell’ tactic, which was easily defeated by Buffy’s ‘step-out-of-the-way-and-trip-him-up-as-he-runs-past’ counterattack.

From its position sprawled at her feet, the ‘bot cursed loudly. “Oy! Bleedin’ slayer.” It was back on its feet, scowling. “You try that again, an’ I’ll flippin’ well flatten you, so I will!”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my stylish, yet affordable boots here.”

The ‘bot looked down and gave a puzzled frown. “You’re not wearing boots.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “One more time, Will.”

Willow reordered a number 1 program and the ‘bot launched itself at Buffy again. This time it had learned enough not to fall – literally – for Buffy’s dodge and trip-up trick and managed to get close enough to warrant a sharp slayer-type punch to the nose that once again had it sprawled at her feet.

Buffy looked down at the floored ‘bot and pouted. “Awww! No blood! Punching Spike on the nose that hard always comes with a nice satisfying crunch and a side order of bleeding. This one doesn’t bleed. Not nearly so much fun.” She considered. “Although it does avoid the drinking of his own nose blood squickyness.”

“By dose!” The ‘bot was clearly less than happy. “You fight dirty!”

“Me? Dirty? Skilled, yes. Sneaky, maybe, in a sassy and sexy sort of way. But dirty?” She held out a hand to help the ‘bot to its feet and used the opportunity of his momentary unbalance to dump him back on the floor flat on his face. “Ok. Maybe that was dirty.”

The ‘bot struggled to its knees and glared up at her. “Say your prayers, little girl.” It pointed a finger at her and its voice was pure venom. “You’re dead.”

“No. You dead. Me slayer. Up and at ‘em, dead boy.”

******
Half an hour later Buffy had to admit the ‘bot was showing promise in the potential sparring partner department. It had learned a few of her moves and even invented a few of its own.

“It’s getting better.” Willow smiled brightly. “Almost lasted three minutes that time. But I think maybe we should leave it there – let me check him over, make sure all the bashing about hasn’t worked any screws loose.”

“Coupla screws loose would be more authentic.” Xander reasoned.

“Oy!” The ‘bot lept to its feet and squared up to Xander. “That’s enough…”

Xander faced up to the ‘bot. “Oh, yeah. Come on then, silicon boy.”

The ‘bot glared at him for a long moment then sneered and turned away. “Huh. Not worth the effort.”

“Stop teasing the toys, it’s not fair. ‘Sides that’s my job.” Buffy turned to Willow. “OK – check him out. I need a chocolate break anyways.”

“Scared, slayer?” The ‘bot wasn’t giving in.

“Still quaking.” Buffy shook her head. “Zap him, keeper of the doohickey.”

Willow pressed the button and the ‘bot subsided into silence. Buffy sighed. “If only that worked on the real thing…”

“Speaking of which, haven’t seen Captain Peroxide around for a while.” Xander gave the ‘bot a final glare then followed the others out of the training room and back into the Magic Box. “Don’t suppose you’re gonna make my day and tell me you accidentally staked him?”

Buffy frowned. The lack of Spike’s attention on her patrols hadn’t gone unnoticed. She’d been almost certain she’d sensed him, had that strangely distinct form of vampire-tingle only he seemed to evoke, but despite that there had been no sign of his putting in an actual appearance. “Now you mention it, he’s not been annoying me lately. Not that I’m complaining.” Not complaining exactly, but it was kind of… well, strange without him.

“Maybe he’s moved on out. Gone to do the evil undead thing somewhere less with the slayerage.” Willow bent down to pick up her computer and settled at the table.

“You think?” Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, given it’s Spike, I can’t believe it’s that easy.”

“Well, we should probably be grateful he’s not honouring us with his presence, given the… ahh… replica of him in the other room.” Giles fended off Buffy’s attempts to steal a chocolate bar he’d hidden under the till. “I dread to think what his reaction would be if…”

“And that’s only just occurred to you? Gee, and here’s me thinking you were the brains of the operation.” Buffy shook her head then raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the door. “Oops. I hope you got your story straight...”

“Wha…?” Giles turned to look then frowned. “There’s no-one…” He turned back in time to see Buffy unwrapping his chocolate bar. “Oh. That was a sneaky, low down trick…”

“Hey! All’s fair in love and chocolate!” Buffy grinned. “Now, go help Willow with the Englishisms.”

******

About the same time as she ran out of chocolate, Buffy also ran out of interest in Giles’ crash course in Cockney. Leaving the others to discuss the finer points of the bizarre rhyming thing, she wandered back into the training room.

The ‘bot stood quietly in the corner of the room, eyes closed. Buffy walked up to it slowly. It really was remarkably lifelike… she frowned… deathlike… whatever. Spikelike at least. Except she’d never actually seen Spike connected to the mains by a bundle of wires – not that it wasn’t a bad idea, on reflection. Maybe they could just get Warren to make it a new head. She reached up to touch its face hesitantly. The synthetic skin yielded convincingly along the sharp, sculpted line of a cheekbone. Her finger travelled down to trace the line of the lips - cool and firm, softer than the cheek – then up again to brush the arch of an eyebrow, the smoothness of a scar that now she looked at it wasn’t quite right, not really, it should be a little more… She dropped her hand quickly. Not that she’d ever noticed. She shivered. Actually, this was wigging her out. The likeness really was unnerving, pretty much perfect in every detail… She bit her lip and looked around cautiously. Every detail? Her hand moved cautiously to the button of the familiar black jeans. I wonder…?

“Not anatomically correct.” Buffy jumped guiltily at the sound of Willow’s voice and dropped her hand quickly. “Bit like GI Joe.”

“What? I wasn’t…! I mean, no way! As if…!” Buffy ground to an embarrassed halt in the face of her friend’s huge grin. “How do you know, anyway?” she added suspiciously.

Willow headed across the room, laptop in hand. “I checked.”

“Willow!”

“Not like that!” She put the laptop down on a table near the ‘bot and frowned down at the screen in concentration. “Giles told me. It was one of the things he did specify. This thing has fuzzy logic, emotion recognition, adaptive programming, the works…it’s more alive than a lot of people I know. So given it can learn and all, and given April, and what Warren… well, you know… made her for…” she rolled her eyes, “Giles didn’t want it…” she put on her best Giles voice “… developing… ah… inappropriate reactions in close physical situations.” She gave Buffy a stern look. “I didn’t peek.” She bent back to the keyboard and the grin was back. “Well, no point after he told me that! Here,” she held out the end of a cable to an open-mouthed Buffy, “plug this in.”

Buffy took the connector and turned back to the ‘bot. “I’m kind of afraid to ask where…” she said, shaking her head bemusedly.

Buffy wandered aimlessly through the cemetery, twirling her stake disconsolately. It had been a particularly dull night. Not that there had been a lack of slaying opportunities – well, this was Sunnydale, so that was kind of given – but all that had been on offer were lame-ass fledgling vamps who were no real challenge and, worse, had no appreciation whatsoever of her painstakingly thought-out puns. It had been totally boring and she’d even be grateful for Spike to put in an appearance and liven the evening with a little pointless and annoying snarkage. Not that she missed him. No way. As if. Hardly even noticed the lack of him for the past sixteen and a half days.

Not that she was counting.

She stopped walking, looked up and frowned. And the fact her aimless meanderings had brought her straight to the door of his crypt was just pure coincidence. She paused, one hand against the heavy, worn wood. Maybe she should just go check it out, see if there was any sign of Spike. Best to know where he was and what he was up to, after all, because… well, just best to know. She hesitated. And if he was in there? She needed an excuse, a reason to come calling or he might just think she actually wanted his company. Which, as it turned out, she had to admit, now there was no-one around to hear the admitting… she did. And how disturbing was that?

She pushed at the door cautiously, frowned and pushed harder. Locked! Since when did Spike lock his door? Maybe he had left town after all. Or maybe he was in there; maybe he just didn’t want visitors. Or maybe he had a visitor. Oh. Buffy’s hand fell away from the door. She turned away resolutely. Well, whatever. She had way more important things to worry about Spike. And besides – she wasn’t worried about Spike. She set off back across the cemetery, resolutely resisting the urge to look back at the door of the tomb. Glory. Now there was something worth the worrying.

Worrying about Glory occupied her mind all the way across the cemetery and halfway down Main Street, but it seemed pretty much a fruitless exercise and was just adding frustration and a touch of panic to the mix that she could well do without. She frowned and kicked moodily at a can in the street. Life had to be about more than saving the world. Honestly, Saturday night a girl should really have something better to do with her time. Everyone else seemed to. Xander and Anya were having sex – at least, that was the plan Anya had announced to them all over coffee earlier that evening to Xander’s obvious embarrassment. Willow and Tara were baby-sitting Dawn, who should be in bed by now, so they’d be making with the smoochies. Giles was off on some mystery assignation or other, although surely not a hot date. Not Giles. Old people didn’t have hot dates. Unless they were old vampires, natch. Like Spike, for example. Buffy was willing to lay odds that Spike’s dates were very hot indeed.

She shook her head to chase away the pictures. “So not going there,” she announced to the empty street.

And she… she was lonely.

The first fat drops of rain began to splatter the pavement, glinting wetly in the light of the streetlamps.

Lonely and wet, it seemed. She looked up. “Gee. Thanks for that,” she muttered to the lowering sky, as the heavens opened and the rain came down in earnest.

She ran for the nearest shelter and let herself into the Magic Box, shaking the rain from her hair. She peered morosely out at the downpour for a while, soon tired of that and wandered into the training room. So it seemed she was left with this – a pale imitation of a pain-in-the-ass vampire. She looked over at the ‘bot and sighed. The adaptive programming had kicked in and it had developed over the past days, had almost got itself a personality. And it was sort of familiarly Spikelike in some ways, but still… overall… not. Whatever, she was stuck here until the rain let up and she was bored. She took out the control unit and pressed the green button.

“Sla…” The ‘bot woke with his customary menacing growl.

“Don’t. OK?” Buffy held up her hand to interrupt him. “Just don’t.”

The ‘bot gave her a puzzled frown. “You don’t wanna fight?”

“No, not really.” Buffy slid the control unit back into her pocket with a sigh and sat down on the table.

“Oh.” The ‘bots puzzlement deepened. “You sure?”

“Not in the mood.”

“What kind of mood do you need to be in? Oh, wait!” The ‘bot grinned. “This is some kind of trap, isn’t it? You’re gonna lull me into a false sense of security an’ then when I least expect it… bang!”

“There will be no banging.” She blinked. “Fighting! Really don’t much feel like it.”

The ‘bot watched her uncomfortably. “You OK, slayer?”

“No, not so much.”

“Oh.” He shifted from foot to foot and frowned. “A nice fight might help,” he offered hopefully. “Unless you wanna… I dunno…” He winced. “Talk?”

Buffy looked at her feet. Why not? Maybe talking to someone would help, someone outside the whole mess of her worries over Dawn, and Glory, and just… slayer stuff. Someone outside but close enough to understand. And it wouldn’t be the first time she’d talked to him. She felt the words building in her brain, fighting for release. “Spike…” She looked up into the familiar blue eyes and paused. It was only the colour that was familiar. There was no understanding and sympathy half hidden behind the Big Bad awkwardness, no hint of the… something more… she’d come to recognize but fought not to acknowledge. She closed her eyes and shook her head. This wasn’t Spike. “I can’t talk to you!”

“Why not?”

“Because… because… you’re a robot!”

“Will you stop with the robot thing!”

“You’re not Spike, OK?”

“Am too.”

“Are not! You’re just a…a whatever it was Willow called you. A stimulant.”

“A what?”

“Simulant! You are a robot!”

“Say that again an’ I’ll bite you.”

“Yeah?” She folded her arms and glared at the ‘bot. “Go on, then. Vamp away.”

“A’right.” He frowned in concentration, paused, tried again, then gave Buffy a puzzled look.

“Well? I’m waiting.” She tilted her head and ran a hand over her throat. “Look at my poor neck. All bare and tender and exposed... all that blood just... pumping away...”

The ‘bot growled in frustration. “Don’t rush me!”

“You can’t do it. You’re not a vampire. You’re a robot.”

“I warned you, missy.” He pointed a finger at her. “S’just a bit of… of… I mean, s’never happened to me before…”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Give me your arm.”

“Why?” The ‘bot hugged his arms to his chest and peered at her suspiciously.

“Oh, for…” she grabbed his wrist and pointed to a small area of raised skin on his forearm. “There. See?”

“See what?”

With a sigh she pushed the skin flap aside to reveal a USB2 connection. “That.”

“Hey! What’s that?”

“It’s a connector thingy… A port or something…” Buffy was out of her depth and struggling. “for computers.” She shook her head. “Whatever. You’ve got one because” she looked the ‘bot in the eye and said slowly and deliberately “you are a robot.”

The ‘bot looked at his arm suspiciously. “Might not be.”

“Jeez, you’re just as stubborn as the real thing! What do you think that is there for?”

“Well, I dunno.” He glared at her. “Maybe the Initiative did it. Yeah, that’s it. Same time they put the chip in my head, they put that in my arm.”

“You don’t have a chip! Well, OK, you have lots of chips – part of the whole being a robot vibe – but not like Spike has a chip.”

“I’m a robot?”

“Yeah. Hate to break it to you like this, but there it is.” Buffy shrugged.

There was a long silence while the ‘bot processed this. “Makes sense now I think about it.” He shrugged.

Buffy looked at him in surprise. “You took that well.” Adaptive programming was clearly working overtime that night.

“Well – yeah. I’m like Brainiac or somethin’. That’s cool.” The ‘bot looked distinctly pleased.

“Brainiac?”

“Superman’s arch nemesis.”

“Oh.”

The ‘bot was still thinking. “So, you’re saying there’s another one of me out there somewhere? A copy or somethin’?”

“No, he’s the original. You’re the copy.” Buffy shook her head. How surreal was all this getting? “You’re… I dunno… Spikebot.”

“Not sure I like that idea.” Spikebot frowned. “Two of us?”

“You know, I’m not exactly overjoyed with it either, but there you go.”

Spikebot considered. “So I’m just like your Spike, right? I look like your Spike.”

“He’s not my…” Buffy sighed. “Well, more or less…” she conceded.

“An’ I sound like your Spike.”

“Yeah, pretty much…”

“An’ I fight like your Spike. Better I warrant.”

“Well…”

“So, far as I’m concerned, ‘m better ‘n the real thing.” Spikebot smirked, sat down on the table next to her and folded his arms. “Go on, then. Talk.”

“I… Look. You’re just… wrong. You’re a mess of Giles and Xander and Willow’s ideas of Spike, that’s all. Spike - the other, slightly more annoying Spike - is different…”

“Yeah? What’s he got that I haven’t, then?”

Buffy fought to keep her eyes from straying to his crotch. “You…” Where to start? “OK. For one, you’re all with the programming and the predictability.” She frowned. “Spike’s… surprising. He does things that really don’t fit with the whole big bad thing he has going on. I mean, he does the evil stuff, don’t get me wrong. Or… at least…he used to…but then…” She sighed. “There was this one night, before mom… I guess I’d been really hard on him… not that he didn’t deserve it and all,” she added hurriedly “… but… yeah… hard. So he turns up with a shotgun…”

“Yeah? Good for him.” Spikebot nodded approvingly.

“Hmm. Well, anyway, mom was ill and I was…” devastated, worried, scared as hell… “upset and Spike…”

“Wait. You’re not dead. He didn’t kill you? What, he fell for the tears routine? How lame is he?” Spikebot snorted.

“No, he didn’t kill me. He sat down beside me and he was just…there…” A memory of an awkward silence, a clumsy pat on the back that touched her more than she’d admit, a silent, comforting presence at her side, the way he’d looked at her when she’d told him about her fears, the way he listened. And yet, the next time she’d seen him she’d acted as if it had meant nothing…

“Wuss.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It helped. He was…” she gave a puzzled frown “…sweet.” He really had helped her that night, and looking back she wasn’t sure that it had even registered at the time. “And Willow told me he… he brought flowers…” her voice tailed away. And he’d been waiting for her a few nights later, standing quietly in the yard, awkward and uncomfortable, strangely vulnerable. He was still carrying the scars from the Ghora and he’d tried to apologise for what he’d done, with Dawn, that spell, and explain why he’d done it and how sorry he was and about her mom, and if he there was anything… She’d stood in silence, arms folded, tight-lipped as he stumbled on and eventually the words failed him, although his eyes… his eyes said more than his words ever could. And she… she’d just turned and walked away, went inside and closed the door and her mind...

“Flowers? Sweet? Bugger me! You sure this Spike of yours isn’t a ravin’ poofter?”

Buffy dragged herself back from her thoughts. “I think you can take that as read,” she said wryly.

“Well, clearly there’s somethin’ not right with him. I mean, if t’d been me… bang bang. One less slayer to plague the world. That’s what vampires do.” Spikebot nodded knowledgably. “I know about these things.”

“Yes.” Buffy stared thoughtfully into the distance. “It is.”

“An’ speakin’ of the whole vampire-slayer story, how come you haven’t offed him?”

“What? Well, I…”

“Supposed to be your job an’ all, killin’ the vamps. And he clearly qualifies as a vamp,” Spikebot pouted, “even if I apparently don’t.” He thought for a moment and then brightened. “Hey! If I’m not a vampire, then y’ can’t stake me! Vampire slayer’s what you are, not robot slayer.” He thought a little more as Buffy watched him bemusedly. “So if you can’t slay me… then there’s no point in fightin’ you, is there?”

“Well, if you put it like that…”

Spikebot considered for a moment then shook his head. “Nah. Every point. I like it.”

“Right…”

“So, why then?” He wasn’t giving up.

Buffy gave a puzzled frown. “Why do you like it?”

“No, why haven’t you offed the wussy one?”

“Well, he’s…” She paused. OK – so why? Not like she hadn’t had the chance, or the provocation, or the urge… but still, no slaying… “Oh! The chip. He has this chip thing, so he can’t hurt anyone anyway, and you know, I don’t slay just anything! I only slay things if… if they’re a real danger, and he’s not… not really… and…”

“Yeah, but the chip’s not always been there, has it?”

“No, it hasn’t but…”

“But?” The ‘bot smirked as she stumbled to a halt. “You’re gettin’ soft on the evil undead, slayer.” He looked at her, tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Or is it just you’re getting soft on one particular big bad?”

“Spike has his uses,” she glared at the ‘bot icily.

“Yeah?” He leaned towards her, a half smile twitching at his lips. “An’ what uses would you have in mind, then?”

“I…” She felt herself blushing. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She stood up quickly and pulled the control unit from her pocket. “I think it’s probably time all good robots were asleep.”

The ‘bot shrugged. “Not sleepy.”

She punched the ‘off’ button and Spikebot subsided into silence. “Oh, yes you are,” she muttered. She frowned at him, sitting quietly, eyes closed, that irritating half smile on his lips. All this super-clever adaptive learning or whatever was all very well, but tomorrow she was asking Willow to reprogram him back to be more with the fists and fight and less with the perceptobot. Turns out he’d developed more of his alter ego’s characteristics than she’d thought.

And Buffy wasn’t sure she could cope with two of them being all with the ‘speaker of uncomfortable truths’ routine.

The next few days passed much as they all had recently, the new routine of juggling school with looking after Dawn and trying to keep her home, and herself, together. She missed her mom so much that sometimes the feeling was overwhelming and she would simply sit, rocking herself gently, staring into space, struggling to fight off a growing feeling of panic. But never in front of Dawn. In front of Dawn she was big-sister-in-charge, competent Buffy coping with it all, holding her little sister when she cried, keeping the familiar routines, keeping it together. But in truth, nothing seemed familiar anymore, and holding together a pretence of normality was desperately hard work. Everything was different, except for one thing. Amongst all the change, slaying was her one unchanging certainty. So, despite everything, she clung to patrolling alone, to the quiet of the night that gave her a chance to think, the all-encompassing adrenalin rush of the fight that released the buried tensions of the day.

There looked to be plenty of opportunities for tension releasing that night. She’d barely been in the cemetery for more than a few minutes when she came across a raucous band of vampires, clearly setting out for a night on the prowl. She counted eight – none of them familiar, either as vampires or former townsfolk. Out-of-towners then. There were times when she had to wonder where they all came from and why…

“Hey, guys! Were y’all going? Is there a party somewhere?” Buffy stepped out in front of the gang, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, that’s right.” the biggest and ugliest of them snarled. “An’ you’re the party snacks, darlin’.”

“You think?” Buffy shook her head. “Nah. I’m more in the way of a party games organiser.” The vampire moved closer, slipped into game face and bared his fangs. She slid the stake from her pocket. “And I think first off, we’ll go for a little game of… pin the stake on the vampire.” One slick move and the stunned-looking vampire crumbled to dust. Buffy smiled apologetically at the others. “Oops.”

The remaining group took a step backwards and watched her warily. “Ah, c’mon! No-one else wanna play? What kind of a party is this?”

“Gonna be your wake, slayer.” A tall, well-muscled vamp stepped forward. He gestured towards her, and spoke to the others. “What you waiting for? There’s eight of us…”

“Seven,” a slightly nervous voice piped up behind him.

“Seven.” The new ringleader growled. “Whatever. I think we’re still more than a match for a little bitty bottle blonde bimbo.”

“Bottle blonde?” Buffy frowned at him. “Oh, I’m so not gonna give you any party favours.”

The vampires seemed to have decided the odds might just be on their side, and gathered around her threateningly, watching their – now she looked closer – very well muscled and fit- (for a dead guy) looking spokesman. “Teach me to moan about the lack of a challenge…” Buffy muttered to herself as they launched their attack.

It was all going well until the heel broke off her boot. She’d already dusted three of them, and was just about to pull off a really neat high kick and double stake when the traitorous heel dumped her ungraciously at the big guy’s feet. He was on her before she had the chance to recover, and although that wasn’t necessarily a problem, the other three vampires, emboldened by her predicament, were closing in. Resolutely ignoring the encroaching vampires, Buffy concentrated on freeing herself from the embrace of their ringleader. Big he may have been, but bright… not so much. A moments feigned surrender and he slackened his grip, bending his face toward her neck. She took an immense amount of pleasure in jabbing her elbow into that face, knocking his head backwards. A right hook to the jaw knocked him off her and into a crumpled heap and she was on her feet ready to face the other three vampires, who were… gone.

She blinked. Nothing but silence and the familiar smell of vampire dust drifting in the cool night air. Rather a lot of vampire dust. She looked around cautiously. She was still getting the vampire tingle, and she was darn sure knew the cause. “Spike?” she called softly. “Spike? You there?”

The silence stretched on uninterrupted. The big vampire began to moan and stir, and Buffy staked him absentmindedly, frowning into the darkness. This was getting weird. It was seriously unlike Spike not to put in an appearance and crow over helping her out, not to try and turn some advantage from the deed. Come to think about it, this wasn’t the first time opponents had just disappeared silently into the night when her back had been turned. But if it was Spike, then why so secretive? She hadn’t seen him since… since… she bit her lip at the memory… since the night she’d told him she never wanted to see him again. Oh. He’d helped her out of a sticky situation – literally – with a Khaval demon and she’d told him… She groaned. Well, it had been a bad time! The Khaval demon had slimed her and it was in her hair and all over her face and he laughed and she’d got angry and said that she could do without having him around on top of everything else she had to deal with and it would be a whole lot easier for her if he just left her alone and then he’d gone all quiet and then… and then he went… And since when did Spike ever do what she asked?

“Spike?” she called into the night. “Spike… look… I’m sorry? OK? You wanna come out now? Spike?” Still nothing. Buffy felt like stamping her foot in frustration. “Stubborn vampire,” she muttered under her breath. For a moment she considered going in search of her secret side-kick, but she had Spike matched in the stubborn department. Resolutely turning her back on the cemetery, she headed back into town.

The streets were midweek quiet, even at this relatively early hour. She considered going home, but Willow and Tara would just feel they had to stay and keep her company, and Buffy decided on balance that an evening watching them swapping lovey-dovey glances was kind of more than she could stomach right now. No, she’d give them a couple of hours, then head on back. Meantime… She looked around for inspiration, and sighed. There was always the Magic Box and a head start on tomorrow’s research. And she had a sneaking suspicion she’d guessed where Giles had hidden the chocolate cookies.

******

The Spikebot stood quietly in the corner of the training room, a cable linking him to Willow’s laptop sitting on the table at his side. Buffy peered myopically at the screen and decided she hadn’t the first idea what the stream of numbers and commands meant. She pressed the ‘on’ button on her remote control hopefully, but the red light told her Spikebot wasn’t ready to play.

She wandered back into the shop, searched half-heartedly and unsuccessfully for Giles’ new secret chocolate stash, then gave up and sat down at the table, resolved to do the research thing. The pile of books looked even larger and dustier than it had earlier in the day. Buffy pouted and opened the first one resignedly. She was faced with a densely worded page, liberally sprinkled with incomprehensible Latin, and not one single illustration to relieve the monotony. She suddenly remembered just how much she hated researching.

She closed the book, folded her arms over it and rested her chin on her hands. The Magic Box was silent, save for the odd shufflings and chinkings that seemed to come from some of the displays. The few lights she’d turned on casting mysterious and atmospheric shadows over the shelves and displays. The contents of a few of the jars glowed softly in delicate shades of putrid green and slime brown. One large jar of something violently orange seethed gently as if alive, which for all she knew it may have been; another of shiny grey fluid put up small, rainbow-hued bubbles that sparkled prettily and burst with a gentle ‘pop’ as they reached the surface. Next to it, the newt’s eyes glared balefully at her from inside their glass prison. Someone had carefully arranged the mummy’s hand so that it was currently giving the patent Spike two-finger salute to anyone who cared to look, Buffy noticed. Despite herself she smiled. She really needed to have a word with Dawn. She yawned. It was warm and comfortingly familiar here. Weird, yes, but warm all the same. Buffy felt strangely and contentedly alone. Her friends were trying so hard to help – Giles, ever watchful, ever attentive; Willow and Tara sweet and caring, following her every move with worried, anxious eyes; Xander keen to help even if he wasn’t sure how; all of them so desperate to be there for her that sometimes… sometimes… it was all too much. She had no space anymore – no chance to step back from the responsibility thrust upon her and just be alone with herself. She loved her friends – really she did – but the constant watching was cloying, suffocating. She felt herself thinking of a night on the back porch, and a quieter companionship from the most unexpected of quarters. She felt her eyes getting heavy. Having the Spikebot around made her realise something – in a strange sort of way, and probably a way she’d rather not analyse, she missed Spike. The ‘bot looked like Spike, and superficially at least acted like Spike. But superficial it was. The others seemed to think it was a perfect copy – a major improvement in Xander’s eyes – but it wasn’t Spike. She missed the snark and the battle of wills, and the annoying way he was so often right, and the sudden flashes of compassion and vulnerability in those impossibly blue eyes that were so at odds with the front he presented to the world, and the way he understood her and the way he sometimes missed by a mile, and… well, he had that sort of sexiness that went beyond just being easy on the eye… She yawned and shook her head. How weird was her life? As her eyes closed and she slipped towards sleep, her last conscious thought was “Wait. Did I just think ‘sexy’…?”

******

A hand on her shoulder woke her from a dream of fire and loss, a confused sense of lurking evil and an encroaching horde. Startled from sleep and momentarily confused by the afterimages of her dream, she was on her feet in an instant, instinct taking over, flooring her would-be assailant in a single, fluid move, pinning him to the floor. As her brain cleared she found herself glaring down at the back of a familiar head. Damn! She’d forgotten she’d turned him on. Flat on his face on the floor, the Spikebot struggled to free himself from her armlock. “Hey!” He twisted onto his back, pulling his arm away from her, and tried to push her away, fighting against her grip. “Get off!”

“Stop! Will you…ouch! Stop!” She pushed him hard back against the floor, and sat on him to hold him down. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to attack me unless I tell you to!”

“I’m not what? Since when? Where the bloody hell did that one come from?”

“You do not initiate attacks unless I give the command, remember?” Buffy sat up straddling the bot’s hips and fumbled in her pocket for her control pad. “And now the command word isn’t working. I so gotta get Will to check your programming,” she muttered under her breath.

“Pro… What…? Are you drunk?”

“Am I…? Oh, shut up!” She gave a small grunt of triumph and pulled out the cellphone controller. “Honestly, fuzzy logic or not, Will has to put a stop to this.” She aimed the phone and pressed shut down. Nothing. He was still glowering up at her. She pressed the button again.

“Are you completely out of your tree? Who the fuck are you trying to call?” The angry blue eyes continued to glare up at her; the angry blue eyes that now she came to look properly... Oh, no. She winced. Please, no. Actually, now she thought about it - she wriggled her hips experimentally - there was definitely a bulge where no bulge should be…

“What are you doing here?” She leapt to her feet. “I thought you’d left town! Where have you been? And why was your door…?” Buffy paused. The anger in the blue eyes had been replaced by something that was beginning to look suspiciously like smugness. “Not that I care,” she added quickly.

“Missed me, slayer?” Spike picked himself up, shrugged his duster straight and gave her the tongue-against-teeth leer that the ‘bot had never quite perfected. “Not been around much. Been busy, is all. Doin’…” he gestured vaguely “…stuff.”

“What, like breaking and entering?” Attack, she decided, was probably the best form of embarrassment-hiding defence. “You broke in!”

“Didn’t break anythin’. You leave to door open, pet, you gotta expect customers. S’a shop after all.” He slid something into the pocket of his duster surreptitiously.

“What have you got there?”

“Nothin’.”

“Give!”

“Make me.” Again the leer.

“Spike.” Buffy was in no mood for another scuffle.

He sighed, rummaged in his pocket and held out his hand. Resting on his palm was a delicate necklace, a perfect moonstone framed in silver.

“Oh, pretty!” Despite herself Buffy smiled. She'd admired that necklace since the day Giles first put it on display.

“Thought you’d like it. You’ve been lookin’ a bit down lately, an’… Well, I thought I might just, you know…” He shrugged and held it out to her, smiling shyly. “Peace offerin’. Here. S’yours.”

“It’s… Thank you… I…” She reached out to touch the gleaming stone. “No! Wait!” She shook her head and snatched back her hand. “You stole that!”

“Stole…? Oh, and what? You’re shocked and disappointed?” He snorted. “It’s what we evil sorts do, yeah? Look you don’t want it, know a bird who will.” He turned and strode off across the Magic Box, muttering to himself.

“Spike!” Buffy called after him, resisting the urge to add What bird? You have a bird?

Spike raised an arm in mock salute. “See you around, slayer.” He reached out to open the shop door only to have his exit blocked by the entrance of a surprised-looking Xander.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going, mechanoid man?” Xander folded his arms and frowned at Spike. “Since when did you get to wander the streets?”

“Xander, it’s not…” Buffy paused. How to explain without giving the game away to an increasingly angry Spike.

“You just get your robotic ass back in there.” Xander pointed towards the back of the shop.

“Get my…?” Spike stared at him in disbelief and shook his head. “Is everyone here completely mad?” He made to pass by Xander. “Outta my way, monkey boy, or I’ll just have to thump you.”

“Oh, yeah? Oh, I’m sooo scared.” Xander smiled mockingly

“Xander…” Buffy began again. “Spike…”

“It’s alright, Buffy, leave it to me. Must be a little blip in the program…” Xander moved closer to Spike and glared into his eyes.

“Program? What’s with the all the program bollocks? Whatever the pair of you are on, you’ve clearly not got a head for it.” Spike and Xander were now virtually eyeball to eyeball and engaged in an intensive glare-match.

“Xander…” Buffy made one last attempt to distract them from what seemed to be shaping up to be inevitable pain for both antagonists.

“I’m dealing.” Xander didn’t remove his glare from Spike’s.

Buffy sighed. Macho posturing, much? She leaned back against the counter, folded her arms and waited. “OK. Don’t say I didn’t try and warn you…”

“Now.” Spike’s voice was low and dangerous enough to make Buffy wince, despite the fact it left Xander apparently unmoved. “Move.”

“Make me.” Xander grinned savagely. “Oh, sorry, you can’t.”

Fist met nose with a soggy crunch that left both men reeling – Xander sprawled on the floor, hand pressed to his bleeding face, and gazed up in shock at Spike, who had his hands pressed to his temples as the chip wrecked its vengeance.

“He hit me!” Xander looked over at Buffy in bewilderment.

“Well, yes.” Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Spike would, wouldn’t he?”

“But… he…can’t…” The penny finally dropped and Xander looked back up at Spike. “Oh.”

Spike shrugged away the last remnants of chip-induced pain and glared down at Xander. “Oh, but I can. Hurts like hell, of course, but times like this it’s bloody worth it.” He took one last angry look at Buffy. “You are both completely barking,” he growled as he turned and disappeared into the night.

“You could have warned me it wasn’t the ‘bot!” Xander dabbed ineffectively at his nose with his sleeve.

“You can’t tell?” Buffy shook her head and walked around the counter, searching for tissues to stem the bleeding. “Well, I kinda tried, but short of letting the cat outta the bag about our mechanical friend next door, which somehow I think …” She paused. Sitting next to the till was a small pile of worn ten dollar bills. No way would Anya have left money lying around… She reached out and touched them gently.

“What was he doing here, anyway?” Xander picked himself carefully, wincing as he touched his bruised and bleeding nose.

Buffy picked up the notes and looked at the open doorway thoughtfully. “Shopping,” she said softly.

Buffy was surprised to see a light shinning in the Magic Box on her way back from patrolling the next night. She was an awful lot more surprised when she went inside to check it out. Xander and the Spikebot were sitting at the table, apparently deep in a game of cards which, judging by the small heap of poker chips next to Xander and the teetering pile next to Spikebot, Xander was comprehensively losing.

Xander raised a hand in embarrassed greeting. The Spikebot growled.

“Hey! What gives?” Buffy wandered over to them, swinging her stake. “You’re here late. Doncha have a home to go to?”

Xander glared at Spikebot as he laid down his hand of cards with a smirk and scooped the small pile of chips in the centre of the table toward him. “Been working. Anya’s been stocktaking, so we’ve been down in the cellar all evening…” Xander gestured vaguely, flushing with obvious embarrassment.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Stocktaking?”

“Umm… yeah.”

“Tiring work… stocktaking. All that taking of stock and all.” Buffy nodded wisely. “See how it could wear you out. ‘Specially with Anya.”

“Yeah. Right.” Xander’s flush deepened. “Anyway, she went home and I just thought I’d take a little break,” he closed his eyes briefly, “and get some rest,” he added under his breath, “And… you know, Will said we should keep giving the ‘bot things to learn for the adaptive programming and all, so I just thought I might teach Robbie the Robot here how to play poker.” Spikebot grinned and Xander frowned at him. “He’s a quick learner.”

Buffy peered pointedly at a card half hidden on Spikebot’s lap. “So I see,” she said dryly.

Spikebot smirked and pointedly rearranged his winnings. “So – you gonna deal, or what?”

Xander opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. He winced.

“You think Anya might be wanting to do a bit more stocktaking?” Buffy gave him an innocent smile.

Xander stood up. “’Scuse me,” he muttered and wandered off with the ‘phone pressed to his ear.

“You’re cheating!” Buffy hissed at Spikebot.

“Well…. Yeah.”

“I’ll bet Xander didn’t teach you how to do that!”

“Didn’t need teaching. Figured it out by m’self.” Spikebot gave a self-satisfied smile.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you know I’m more n’ just a good-lookin’ an’ sexy face?”

“Humph. S’not even your good-looking and sexy face. Not that it is!” She added quickly at the ‘bot’s smirk. “Good-looking and sexy… more irritating and annoying and… you know, maybe you are getting more like Spike every day.” Buffy looked up to see Xander hovering nervously. “What?”

“Buffy… Buffy, it’s Dawn…”

Buffy felt the familiar sickening lurch in her gut. Dawn. Now what? She jumped to her feet.

“It’s OK!” Xander held up a placating hand, “She’s OK, at home with Willow and Tara and none the worse.”

“What happened?” Buffy struggled to stay calm.

Xander sighed. “She went looking for Spike…”

“Spike? Why did she go looking for Spike?”

“I told her how I got this.” Xander gestured to his bruised nose. “I mean, he’s not been around and you know she has this… stupid thing for him, I guess she…”

Buffy interrupted him impatiently. “So she went looking for Spike and…?”

“She saw Glory’s minions. They had Spike.”

“What?” The sickening lurch returned with greater venom.

“They were dragging him out of his crypt. Dawn said he was pretty beat up…”

“Then I’ve got to go get him back.” Buffy’s voice was tight. “I guess it makes a change from rescuing Dawn. They can’t have got far…”

Xander ran a hand over his hair. “Buffy – thing is, Dawn panicked. She hid in a tomb and the door got stuck and it took her a while… it’s been hours… over three hours, dawn reckons. Glory’s had Spike for three hours.”

Buffy closed her eyes, trying to fight down a sudden surge of panic. “OK – whatever. It’s done. Damage limitations. I need to go after Spike.”

“I’m coming with.” Xander stood up.

“No, wait. I don’t like leaving Dawn…” Buffy bit her lip.

“Take the ‘bot home. Maybe Will can tweak the programming so it’ll protect her…”

“No time. Besides, I don’t trust it.”

“Should think not,” Spikebot grunted. He helped himself to an ace from the pack of cards and surreptitiously slid it onto his lap while Xander was distracted.

“You don’t trust it?” Xander snorted in disbelief. “You left your mom and Dawn in the tender care of the real, live bloodsucking version!”

“But… this is just a robot.” Buffy gestured to the bemused Spikebot.

“And he’s just a soulless vampire. What’s the diff? Both lacking in the finer human feelings and the morality department.”

Spikebot snorted. “Is that meant to be an insult? Because frankly there’s nothin’ that great about morality. You lot with all these so called finer feelin’s, think you’re so bloody high n’ mighty …”

Spikebot was clearly starting on a minor rant, and Buffy really wasn’t in the mood. “Shut up,” she snapped.

“Well, pardon me for breathin’.” Spikebot pouted. “Which I don’t.”

She turned back to Xander. “Spike’s… this…it’s not got any… I dunno! It isn’t Spike.” She shook her head and picked up a crossbow. “It’s different, OK? Look, I do the fighting and the slaying and the saving the world thing. Don’t expect logic, too.” She turned to the still sulking Spikebot. “You. Can you do the thing… the smell thing…”

“You sayin’ I smell?”

“No. Listen – vampires have this heightened sense of smell – they can track people. Can you do that?”

“Well… I guess… I mean, I can smell you’re different from him. You smell like the slayer; he doesn’t.”

Buffy sighed. “It’s worth a try. I’m gonna use him to try and track Spike down. Xander – you go sit with Willow and Dawn. Call up Giles. If we find anything I’ll let you know.” She turned to Spikebot. “C’mon. You’re coming with me.”

“Not sure I wanna.”

“You talk like you have a choice.” Buffy held up the control unit.

The pout returned. “If you’d just asked nicely…”

“Would you have done as I asked you?”

“No.”

“Like I said,” Buffy sorted through the available weaponry, and weighted a crossbow for balance. “You don’t get the choice.”

“Humph.” Spikebot frowned. “What do I get out of it? Do I get to hit you?”

“No. But you might get to hit a few bad guys.”

“Nothin’ in my programmin’ about hittin’ bad guys. Just slayers. Well, just you to be precise…” Having only recently mastered the sulk, he wasn’t letting go that easily. “’m just a robot after all.”

Buffy gave a frustrated growl. “You’re a very sophisticated robot, with the fuzzy logic and the learning adapting or whatever. Learn!”

“Not sure I wanna.”

“Look. You’re programmed to respond to me, right? So – respond to this. You will come with me and help me hit the bad guys.” Buffy spoke slowly and carefully as if to a child.

Spikebot frowned in concentration. “Do I get to hit you afterwards?”

Buffy sighed. “I might let you try. If you’re good.”

He considered. “Yeah. OK. Been a while since I hit anything. C’mon, then.”

Xander watched him suspiciously. “Buffy, on a scale of 0 to major stupidity…”

“He won’t hurt me, OK? Look, we need to know if they got to Spike.”

“We’ll just have to hope they didn’t.”

Buffy bit her lip. “We’ve seen what Glory’s capable of. Spike might be…”

“Singing like an undead canary… yeah…” Xander shook his head.

“Oh!” Buffy realised with a shock of surprise that actually the fear she felt was more about what Glory and her minions might have done to Spike rather than whether or not he’d given the game away. She shook her head. Get a grip! “Right.” She checked her weaponry and headed for the door. “Go sit with Willow. Look after Dawn.” She opened the door and headed into the night at a run, following the well trodden path to the cemetery.

Spikebot followed close at her heels. “So, where we goin’?”

“Cemetery.”

“Sounds like a barrel of laughs.”

“Shut up and run.”

“I can talk and run. Don’t need to do the breathin’ thing.”

“Don’t need to do the talkin’ thing, either,” she muttered at him and increased her speed. Spikebot loped easily along at her side, mercifully quiet.

As they entered the cemetery, Buffy slowed to catch her breath. “Look we don’t know what we’re headed into. You just stay close and try not to get in the way. If I need your help, I’ll shout.”

“Shout what?”

“Well, how about ‘help’? Will that work for you?”

“Help? Kind of unoriginal,” Spikebot snorted.

“Oh… shut up.” Buffy growled.

She dodged around the side of a tomb and came face to face with… herself.

There was a moment’s stunned silence.

Other Buffy smiled brightly. “Say, look at you! You look just like me! We're very pretty.”

“Bloody hell!” Spikebot was mystified. “Two of you!”

Buffy folded her arms. “No, she’s a robot. Like you. You do remember you’re a robot, right?” Buffy sighed in exasperation. “I mean, can’t you tell? Look at her! She looks nothing like me!”

“Oh! Another Spike!” The Buffybot moved closer to Spikebot, smiling delightedly. “Two Spikes! Double the fun!”

Spikebot leered down at her. “She looks good to me,” he growled to Buffy.

“You are every bit as handsome as my Spike.” Buffybot examined Spikebot carefully. She reached around and squeezed one of the Spikebot’s buttocks. “Oo! You have a nice butt, too! My Spike has an especially fine butt.”

“Spike.” Realisation dawned. “Spike had Warren make…” Buffy shook her head. “Why would Spike want a… oh!” More realisation. “OH!” She closed her eyes, but it was too late – she already had the images. “That’s just…just…”

“For the sex.” Buffybot turned to her with an eager smile. “He just wanted me for the sex.” She rolled her eyes happily. “Lots of sex. In lots of different positions. At least at first. But lately…”

“No! No! Don’t even…” Buffy held up her hands in horror.

“Are you evil?” The Buffybot looked up at Spikebot curiously.

Spikebot considered the question. “You like evil?”

“Oh, yes! Evil excites me and terrifies me.” She gave a small, happy sigh. “When Spike is evil I find it very hard to resist his sinister attraction.”

“Oh, God,” Buffy groaned.

“Oh, I’m evil,” Spikebot leered.

“Oh, good…” Buffybot frowned. “Lately my Spike hasn’t been so much. He brings me flowers and pretty things… see?” She held up the end of a familiar necklace and the moonstone shone softly in her hand, “But all he wants to do is talk. He talks a lot. Mainly about the other me.” She smiled brightly at Buffy. “No more hot sex. Most of my programs haven’t been used in ages.” She looked up at Spikebot appraisingly. “I kind of miss them, if you know what I mean?”

“Erm…” Spikebot checked through his programs but found nothing about hot sex. “No, not really pet.”

“Will you two stop!” Buffy glared at the bots. “I really don’t want to hear this!” She paused and considered. “Spike talks about me?”

“Oh, yes! All of the time. He’s very much in love with you, you know. Luckily I’m not programmed for jealousy, or I think I’d probably have to scratch your eyes out.”

“Scratch…? Hey, sister, you’re welcome to him! You… he made you to look like me so he could… could...” Buffy threw up her hands. “That’s just so disgusting!”

“Oh, it’s not disgusting! The sex was really quite amazing. Spike is very skilled.”

Buffy glared at Buffybot. “It’s wrong, OK? You’re not real.”

Buffybot sighed sadly. “That’s what Spike said.”

“Huh?”

“It was wrong. Having me made.”

This was all getting confusing – not least the strange surge of relief that coursed through her. “OK! OK! Let’s just leave... it… the…” she felt herself blushing. God, am I twelve? She gestured vaguely.”…the sex thing.”

“Well, that’s what Spike said…”

“No! Leave!” Buffy held up her hand and Buffybot subsided. “Where is he? Do you know where Spike is?”

“Of course! I brought him home. He had a fight with some of these weird guys with the bad skin and dental hygiene issues when I was in downtime and they took him away to Glory. He got away and I found him. I do that – it’s one of my primary programs. I have several. Find Spike. Help Spike. Make Spike happy. Have sex with Spike. Spike’s very brave. And strong. He kicked the skanky has-been-bitch-god’s skinny arse and then we kicked her minions.” Buffybot smiled brightly. “Now he’s covered in sexy wounds. You should see them.” She rolled her eyes appreciatively. “But I think they must be hurting quite a lot. He sent me to buy alcohol.” She held up a bottle of Jack Daniels. “See? I had money!”

“Wait. Glory had Spike?”

“Oh, yes. She wanted him to tell her about a key.” Buffybot frowned. “She was very insistent. Tortured him. Poor Spike was very badly hurt, you know.”

Escaped? Or was set free? Buffy’s heart lurched sickeningly in her chest. “What did he tell them?”

“I mean, why were they interested in a silly key anyway?” Buffybot shook her head bemusedly.

“Did Spike tell them where it was?” Buffy said slowly. “The key.”

“No, silly! Spike would never do that! The key thing is yours, isn’t it? He wouldn’t tell them if it was yours! He loves you!” Buffybot smiled benignly, then held up the bottle. “Now, I must take this to Spike…”

“Look. Would you mind if… could I take it to him?”

“Well…”

“Please? You could talk to…” Buffy grabbed Spikebot’s arm and pulled him closer, “him! You two have a lot in common.”

Buffybot considered, then smiled. “OK! I’m sure Spike will be happy if it’s you.” She handed over the bottle and smiled up at Spikebot. “We’ll find something to do.”

“You wanna feel my bum again?” Spikebot leered down at her.

Buffy shook her head in despair and headed for the crypt.

“Spike!” Buffy put on her best 1,000 kilowatt smile and stepped down into the crypt, her walk deliberately light and bouncy. “Honey, I’m home!” He looked up from the television and Buffy’s fixed smile faded at the sight of his ravaged features. Cuts and bruises marred his face, a split lip oozed blood and one eye was painfully blackened and swollen closed. He tried valiantly to smirk, but the effort clearly cost him dearly.

He winced. “So you are, pet.”

Jeez, Spike… what did she do to you? She forced back the smile “And I have whiskey!”

“Cheers.” He reached up to take the bottle, his torn t-shirt revealing the bruises and worse on his body.

Horrified, Buffy reached out a hand to touch the deep wound on his chest. “Spike. This is just…” He looked up curiously at the concern in her voice. She pulled herself together and patted him gently with a bright smile. “Just so sexy. You're covered in sexy wounds.”

He snorted and turned his attention to the whiskey bottle. “Yeah. I feel real sexy.”

“Why did you let that Glory hurt you?” She fought to keep the bewilderment from her voice.

“Told you. She wanted to know who the key was.”

” Oh, well, I can tell her, and then you'll...” Buffy made a show of turning to leave.

“No!” The effort caused Spike to cough painfully. “You can't ever. Glory never finds out.”

“But… she’ll come after you again…” Buffy frowned as Spike shrugged and looked away. “We should go somewhere. Hawaii maybe. Hawaii’s pretty. I could wear a grass skirt.”

“Nice thought, love, but - no. Can’t do that. Need to be here – watchin’ the slayer’s back.” He winced. “Gotta remember to watch my own on occasions.” He looked down and his voice was low and soft. “This thing with Dawn… this key thing… Buffy - the other, not so pleasant Buffy ... anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I couldn't live, her bein' in that much pain. Let Glory kill me first.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Knowin’ my luck probably will, too. Besides, kind of attached to the nibblet myself. Nope, Here for the duration. Better or worse.”

She felt a sharp tug inside, a pull that began to unravel something she’d worked to keep tied up tightly. “But… she hates you. And… and she’d stake you if she knew about me…”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Oh, yeah. Can’t see her understanding you at all.”

“So… why?”

“Love her. Never felt like this way about anyone before. Bloody pointless waste of time.” He sighed wearily and rested his head against the back of the chair. “Know it’s wrong, but there it is. “ He took a pull form the bottle, wincing as the raw spirit hit his torn flesh.

Buffy swallowed hard. “Love? I know about love. I love you, Spike. It’s programmed.”

“S’not the same.”

“Humph. ‘Splainy?

He gave a snort of laughter. “‘Splainy? What kind of a word is that?”

“I… maybe my language circuits are in need of attention… We love. We have sex.”

“Yeah, right. But somethin’ you’ve taught me. This thing for Buffy? It’s not just about tryin’ to get inside her lacies.” He looked up and caught the surprise on her face. “Yeah, bit of a revelation to me, too.” He looked away. “Look, pet, you’re not her, OK? Thought you’d be enough, and you’re great, don’t get me wrong. You’re a right nice piece and hot as hell in bed, better ‘n the real thing, I’d wager…” Spike paused, considered, and shook his head. “Why exactly am I trying not to hurt a robot’s feelings? Anyway, turns out I was wrong. Love her. Really do.”

“Tell me about this ‘love’.” Buffy felt her voice crack despite herself. He looked up at her sharply and she forced a bright smile. “It might help me to adjust my programming.”

“I don’t want… look, great havin’ you around an’ all, but you’re not her. Never could be.”

“Well, I look like her and you know I’ll do anything you want…”

He shook his head. “You’re not her,” he repeated. His voice was low as he went on. “Couldn’t be, not really. S’only one Buffy. An’ that’s the one I can’t shake. Do anything to make it right. Turn myself inside out an’ upside down if that’s what she wants. Die for her if it came to it. S’never going to be enough, though, is it? Can’t see beyond the Big Bad. She’s never gonna love me.”

Buffy watched his bent head for a quiet moment as the final bricks in the wall of her resolve crumbled to dust. This – what she was finally admitting to herself she was feeling – was beyond stupid. Seriously – way beyond. The sensible thing would be to deny the spark, to pretend it wasn’t happening, to run away and cling to the slayer certainties that vampire equals bad and evil, and bad and evil means not to be trusted and certainly not to be fallen for… But she was getting kind of tired of running away, and sensible was pretty over-rated sometimes. Plus where Spike was concerned, slayer certainties apparently weren’t so certain after all.

She reached out to rest her hand on the vulnerable curve of his neck, fingers brushing the soft curls at the base of his skull. “She’s been a fool,” she said softly. He looked up with a wry smile and she leaned toward him, pressed her lips gently to his.

For a moment he responded, then he pulled back with a small gasp of surprise. He looked at her, a puzzled frown creasing his brow, hope touching his bruised and bloodied eyes. “Buffy?”

“Would you rather have the robot?”

“Oh. You’ve met. Look, Buffy, s’not how it looks…”

“You mean you didn’t have Warren build you a sex toy?”

“No! I mean… well, yeah, OK, sort of… but I… It was wrong.” He dropped his eyes and stared at the floor. “You just gonna stake me or are you gonna make me suffer first?”

“Me and your… little friend, we had a chat.” Buffy crouched down beside Spike’s chair.

“Oh, shit.” Spike winced.

“She was very informative.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet she was.”

“Made me realise something.”

Spike sighed. “I’m gonna suffer first, right?”

“Spike?”

“Yeah?” He looked up at her, puzzled by the gentle tone of her voice.

“She said you love me.”

“You know I do,” he said softly. “Told you often enough.”

“Yes.” She kept her eyes fixed on his, her expression solemn. “And I do know. Really.”

“Well, good to know you believe her at least.” He gave a wry smile and looked away.

“Yeah, well, if you can’t believe yourself – even a pretty poor copy of yourself – who can you believe? But it wasn’t the ‘bot. At least, not that one…” she smiled at his puzzled expression. “Long story. Remind me to introduce you.”

“You know I haven’t the first idea what you’re talkin’ about...”

“No. But thing is, I’ve learned something lately.”

“And what would that be?”

She touched his cheek gently. “You’re really one of a kind, you know that?”

The puzzled frown deepened. “Is that a good one of a kind or…?”

“On the whole… all things considered…,” she said softly, leaning toward him. “It’s good,” she whispered against his lips, “very, very good…”

******

Out in the cemetery, Buffybot finished transferring data to the Spikebot and disconnected the link cable. “There you go. I find it very difficult to believe you were made without any of that information. I mean, if you were supposed to be Spike, then not to have all that amazing sexual technique…” She frowned. “Are you alright?” Spikebot was staring off into the darkness, his expression distant. “You’ve never felt any of that?”

“Well… sometimes, y’know, close-up and personal with the slayer… got these… urges. Bleedin’ frustratin’, they were. See why now– nowhere to go. Problem is, pet, I don’t have the necessary.” Spikebot gestured to the area that he now knew was deficient in certain important parts.

Buffybot looked more closely. “Oh! No penis? But that’s one of Spike’s best bits!” Buffybot considered – she wasn’t about to give in that easily. She checked her programming carefully, running through the files and sub-files. Hidden deep in her directories was her manufacturers mark; clearly Warren was too much the egotist not to put some sort of signature on his creations. She smiled brightly. “Never mind.” She stood up, pulled Spikebot after her and headed across the cemetery as fast as her stilettos would allow. “I know where we can find someone to fix that…”

“Hi!” Buffybot smiled brightly at the woman who opened the door of the neat little house nestling in the quiet suburbs. “We’re looking for Warren.”

Warren’s mother smiled back warmly. “Oh! Are you friends of his?”

Buffybot considered. “Not exactly. He made us.”

“He…?” The smile became vaguely bemused. “I’m sorry, dear?”

“Made us. Only he didn’t make Spike quite right,” Buffybot went on, frowning slightly.

“Oh… I… I see.” The bemused smile took on a slightly nervous edge. “Well, Warren’s not here …”

“We really need to see him. Will he be home any time soon?”

“No… no, I don’t think so. Warren’s… left town for a while.”

“How long is a while? We're really kinda desperate.”

“I-I’m not altogether sure. He left in… a bit of a hurry…” Warren’s mother shrugged helplessly.

“Oh.” Buffybot frowned. “That’s a problem.”

“I’m sorry, dear. Is it anything I can help with maybe?” Innate politeness was just about holding on.

Buffybot brightened. “Oh! Maybe you could! It’s just that when Warren made Spike he forgot his penis.”

Spikebot rolled his eyes and growled, “Oh, tell everybody about it, why don’t you?”

“His… penis?” The slightly nervous edge of Warren’s mother’s smile was rapidly turning into full blown alarm.

“So, if you could just maybe make him one? Fully functioning, naturally. About…” she held up her hands “this big, and this thick.” Her fingers described a not insubstantial circle.

“I was thinking bigger…” Spikebot murmured.

“A… penis?”

“Well, yes, because really – he’s missing out on rather a lot without one, don’t you think? I mean Spike… the other Spike… his penis is just amazing…” Buffybot rolled her eyes. “You should see what he can do with it.”

“Mine’ll be better… I have some ideas…” Spikebot put in hopefully.

“Pee…pee…” Warren’s mother said faintly.

“Penis.” Buffybot supplied with a bright smile. “Fully functioning.”

“He… I…” Warren’s mother had turned very pale indeed. She cast a last frantic look at the two ‘bots then backed away slowly “I think I need to go and have a little lie down…” she whimpered, closing the door carefully behind her.

Buffybot frowned at the closed door. “Well, that was kind of rude.”

“Well, in fairness, pet, I don’t suppose she gets that sort of request very often,” Spikebot reasoned.

“Still no cause to be rude.” Buffybot continued to frown in thought. “Oh!” She brightened, smile firmly back in place. “No matter! I have a plan B!”

Spikebot rolled his eyes as he was dragged off down the street. “Look, love, all this is well an’ good an’ I’ll be right glad to get kitted out an’ all, but,” he stopped and turned her to face him. “D’you wanna fight?”

“Fight?” Buffybot gave him a puzzled frown.

“Oh, c’mon! S’been ages since I hit anything! Got all these fancy fightin’ moves an’ I can’t use ‘em! Bleedin’ frustratin’ for a bloke, I can tell you! You gotta do it regular, you know?”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, you can practise on your own, but it’s not the same.” He dropped his head and looked at Buffybot from under lowered lashes, pout in place. “Please?” he wheedled.

Buffybot shook her head firmly. “Oh, I couldn’t fight with you! I’m not programmed to fight Spike. Find Spike, help Spike, have sex with Spike, make Spike happy, yes, and I’ll be able to do all that with you – at least just as soon as we get you a penis – but fight? I can do the pretend fighting until Spike’s sinister attraction gets the better of me and he takes me in his manly arms, but not the real thing…” she looked at him doubtfully.

“If you’re programmed to make Spike happy, then fightin’ will make me real happy.” Spikebot wasn’t giving up without a fight.

“Hmmm. Well, I guess…” Buffybot wasn’t convinced.

“An’ another thing…” Spikebot leered knowingly, “I’m not Spike, am I? Just look like him.”

“But if you’re not Spike, then I’m not Buffy and you’re only programmed to fight Buffy,” Buffybot reasoned.

Spikebot cocked his head. “You’re near enough for me, love.”

Buffybot considered, then smiled. “OK! Body contact of any sort would be fun right now.”

“I’ll give you body contact…” Spikebot grinned happily setting his shoulders. He raised his fists. “Slayer…” he growled happily.

“Stop!” Buffybot held up her hand. Spikebot’s programming kicked in and he ground to a frustrated halt. “It’ll have to be the cemetery. That’s where I need to do it.”

Spikebot dropped his fists. “Fair enough.” It was Buffybot’s turn to be dragged off down the street. “Let’s go.” He wasn’t risking her changing her mind.

~~~~~~

Later, Spikebot lay on the grass in a happy haze, drawing on a post-combatal cigarette. “That was the best, love,” he purred happily.

“Hmm.” Lying next to him, Buffybot frowned and wriggled her shoulders.

Spikebot propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her. “What’s up? Didn’t you enjoy that?”

“I don’t understand. We had lots of body contact. I should be…”

“Satisfied?” Spikebot provided hopefully.

Buffybot nodded and pouted. “But I’m not. I-I’m all…” she wriggled her shoulders again. “My skin is all hot. Do I look hot to you?”

Spikebot leered. “Oh, yeah.”

Buffybot smiled up at him seductively. “Perhaps you’d better feel me. Just to make sure.”

Spikebot frowned. “Oh. OK.” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “Well, you’re a bit warm, but…”

“Oh!” Buffybot’s pout deepened.

Spikebot was at a loss. “What’s up? D’you fight some more?”

“Not really… it’s just that Spike…” She looked up at him. “Kiss me.” She reached up and dragged Spikebot’s mouth firmly to hers.

“So. What do you think?” she asked when she finally released him.

Spikebot looked down at her dazedly. He blinked. "Well, I.." He ran his tongue over his lips thoughtfully. “Can we do that again?” he asked, bending towards her.

Buffybot held up a hand. “Yes, but there’s other stuff we could do,” she smiled up at him suggestively. “Better stuff…”

“But we’ve covered this! I can’t, can I?” He gestured to his crotch.

“No problemo. Spike has other ways. Ways that don’t need a penis.”

“Oh?” The concept was clearly beyond Spikebot. “Like what?”

“Oh, I’ll teach you,” Buffybot purred, pushing his head downwards.

Happily for the Buffybot, Spikebot’s adaptive programming was more than a match for the job. He was a very quick learner.